After the Storm Read online

  These people were like family. They meant well and he was thankful for them. But it was tough to keep pretending that he wasn’t in agony. Hard to maintain civility.

  Unable to stomach another doughnut or piece of candy, he pushed the wheeled table away with more force than he’d intended. It crashed into the metal heating unit under the window. Penn squeezed his eyes closed and trusted the nurses were on top of the morphine. He refused to ask for a stronger dose. Hated that he needed the drugs at all.

  A knock on the partially closed door echoed through the room and Penn gritted his teeth, steeling himself against the pain. By the time the door creaked open, he’d pasted on his friendly face.

  “Hey, there.” Fire Captain Joe Mendoza ambled in. Behind him was Faith Peligni, Joe’s gorgeous firefighter fiancée. “Mind some visitors?”

  Penn did his best to not cringe. “Come on in. Not sure I’m very good company, though.”

  “We didn’t wake you, did we?” Faith asked. Her dark hair fell across her face as she linked her arm with Joe’s. He was decked out in a crisp San Amaro Island Fire Department T-shirt, and Faith wore clothes that gave no hint of her profession. Feminine, stylish clothes. It always tripped Penn out how she was such a girlie-girl outside of work.

  “Nope. I was awake, just waiting for a visit from the department’s eye candy.”

  Faith was well aware of the respect Penn had for her so he was one of the few who could get away with teasing her. He made sure to do it at every opportunity. She never failed to give it right back to him.

  “You’re lucky I’m too nice to punch you while you’re down,” she said, grinning as she walked around the bed toward the window. “I brought you a couple of paperbacks but it looks like the guys got you, uh, set up.” She gestured to the stack of girlie magazines sitting conspicuously on the windowsill and set the books down next to them.

  “That’s Coop. Always has to be the funny guy. I’d tell you to throw them away but I think they’re the only reason he visits.”

  “And he wonders why he’s single,” Joe said.

  “How are you doing?” Faith hoisted herself up to the wide sill.

  Penn hated that question with a passion, and every last person who came in to see him asked it. “Holding my own.”

  Translation: I hurt like a mother but there’s not a damn thing I can do about it so let’s talk about something else.

  “I hear the storm veered at the last minute,” Penn said, endeavoring to get his mind off his discomfort. “What’s the latest on the island?”

  “Could’ve been a lot worse,” Joe said.

  “It’s a mess,” Faith said. “Palm trees and debris everywhere. A lot of beach erosion. It’s hard to imagine how bad it would be with a direct hit. San Solana got the worst of it and it doesn’t sound good.”

  “I’m surprised you’re not out there working,” Penn said.

  “I had to force her to leave after thirty hours straight,” the captain said protectively. “Couple of crews from central Texas and Louisiana showed up today to help out. We should be able to let residents back on the island late tomorrow, maybe early the day after.” Joe sat in the plastic-upholstered chair in the corner, near Faith.

  “Any new injuries reported?” Penn asked.

  “No new ones. Surprisingly few overall. In general, people took Mother Nature seriously and got out like they were supposed to.”

  “Leave it to Nadia,” Faith muttered.

  Just the mention of her name had Penn tensing and his blood pressure crawling upward. He clamped down his jaw on the anger, not wanting his visitors to notice. Not wanting to think about Nadia. He had enough anguish to deal with already.

  He hadn’t told anyone here that he knew the woman he’d tried to rescue. Knew…hell. She’d been haunting his dreams—totally against his will—for months, even after she’d embarrassed him by walking out on their date last summer. Just when the dreams would slow down, he’d see her again with Faith or at the Shell Shack and, sure enough, they’d start back up.

  He’d managed to covertly find out she’d gotten off the island okay but had left it at that. “You spoke with her?” he asked in an attempt to avoid drawing attention to his reaction.

  “She finally got a call through to my cell phone a couple of hours ago. Apparently she’s been frantically trying to reach me, the hospital, anyone who could tell her how you’re doing.”

  He grunted, sorry he’d asked.

  “She feels horrible,” Faith continued.

  “She needs to get over it,” Penn said evenly. “According to the doctor, the discs were probably weakened to start with,” he explained halfheartedly. “Simple as that.”

  “Nadia’s never been a simple girl. She’s pretty hard on herself.”

  Joe chuckled. “Simple girl. Now there’s an oxymoron for you.”

  “Got that right,” Penn said.

  Nadia was more complex than most. She’d grabbed his attention long ago with her looks, a body that wouldn’t quit and a magnetism that tended to draw everybody in, male and female alike. But her devotion to her job had been a turnoff. Not only had she rushed out just after the entrées were served on their date, but she’d canceled an earlier date at the last minute, as well—both times because of her job at her family’s hotel. He’d taken her inability to get through a single date with him as a sign to move on.

  “Consider yourself warned,” Faith said. “I have a feeling Nadia will be tripping over herself to make it up to you.”

  “Like I said, there’s nothing to make up.” He clenched his jaw.

  “Even if I could convince her the injury wasn’t her fault, I think she still regrets what happened when you two went out.”

  “Have you been warned about Nadia’s two-date policy?” Joe asked.

  “Joe.” Faith leveled a look at him that promised trouble later, when they were alone. “You’re not supposed to broadcast that.”

  Joe shook his head, only mildly chastised. “Guys have to stick together. If Nadia plans to prance around here apologizing…”

  “Two-date policy?” Penn asked, disgusted. No wonder she hadn’t taken their plans seriously. “She actually said that?”

  Faith smacked Joe’s arm and looked at Penn. “Just her way of not letting things get serious with anyone. She won’t let herself become more devoted to a guy than her job. I don’t necessarily agree with it.”

  “Thanks for the tip, but there’s no need. I got the message loud and clear three months ago. Moved on. Now…” He nodded toward his lower body. “I’ve got a hell of a lot bigger fish to fry.”

  That he wouldn’t have those “fish” if not for Nadia’s end-all devotion to her job… He shook his head. Not going there.

  “Agreed. You need to focus on healing. What’s the latest?” Joe asked, leaning forward on the chair, propping his elbows on his thighs. “What kind of news are you getting from the doctor?”

  “She’s recommending surgery. Strongly recommending were her exact words. Because of the loss of mobility and the level of pain, she doesn’t believe waiting it out is an option.”

  Faith grimaced sympathetically.

  “How soon can they get you in?” the captain asked.

  “Not until Thursday.” Five more days. Penn had asked if they could knock him out for the duration, only half joking.

  “And how long will recovery be?”

  “Joe,” Faith chided. “You sound like you’re pressuring him to hurry back to work.”

  “Not at all,” Joe said. “I’m asking out of concern, not as an officer. Your job will be there. They do expect you to be able to return?”

  Penn swallowed hard, fought off the worry that hovered over him like a swarm of bees waiting for the right moment to attack. “Doctor won’t say just yet. A week or two after the surgery, we’ll know more.”

  “Not knowing is rough,” Joe said. “You do what you need to. No worrying about work allowed.”

  “We’ll cross our fingers f
or you,” Faith said. “Let us know what we can do.”

  “Thanks. There’s not much of anything but sitting around and waiting. Or lying around, as the case may be.”

  And that was the bitch of it. He was stuck here for hours on end, wondering what his future held. Flipping out about whether the career that defined him was going to be permanently yanked away. Wondering what he would do without it. Trying to imagine who the hell he could be if not a firefighter.

  Penn closed his eyes in frustration. Faith and Joe must have taken it as fatigue, because they wasted no time in saying their goodbyes.

  Penn managed to wait until they disappeared down the hallway before he hit the call button for the nurse. Though he’d refused an increase in painkillers this long, there was nothing he wanted more right now than to be as out of it as possible.

  CHAPTER THREE

  OVER THE PAST EIGHT DAYS, Nadia had thought if she could just see Penn with her own eyes, she’d feel better.

  She realized now, as she peeked through the partially open door into his hospital room, that she’d been wrong.

  He looked like he was asleep. But more than that, he looked…not like the Penn she knew. Though their dating attempt had been an epic fail, she’d hung out with him as part of a group numerous times at the bar the island’s firefighters frequented, whenever she went out with her BFFs, Faith and Mercedes. Normally, Penn exuded warmth and friendliness, which, in combination with his physical wowness, had caught her attention in the first place. Today he seemed pale and weak.

  For a good thirty seconds, she strongly considered walking away. That wouldn’t solve anything, though.

  Knocking lightly as she crossed the threshold, she waited for him to turn his head and look at her.

  “Hello? Okay if I come in?” Doubt had her second-guessing her decision to visit. “Penn?”

  Okay, then. She could keep busy until he woke up. She’d come not only to reassure herself but to apologize, and if she left now, she’d just have to squeeze another visit into her unrelenting schedule.

  Her heels clicked on the tile floor as she rounded the bed to the only chair in the private room. The oversize bag she used as a catch-all purse clunked to the floor as she sat down.

  She looked at Penn, who still didn’t stir. Now that she could see him more clearly, his bed angled up just slightly, it struck her that he wasn’t sleeping peacefully. His features were drawn, jaw clenched tightly. Angrily? His tan had faded considerably. She’d never seen him with so much as a five-o’clock shadow, but now the lower part of his face was covered with scruff, somewhere between stubble and an actual beard. His expression was anything but relaxed or calm and she wondered how anyone could sleep in that state.

  He wore an old black tee that definitely wasn’t hospital-issue. The sheets were pulled up to his waist and she studied the outline of his solid thighs....

  “What are you doing here, Nadia?”

  She jerked her gaze to his face, noting that he sounded less than friendly. He studied her through partially open, half-alert eyes.

  “You weren’t asleep.”

  He exhaled loudly. “Nope. Just wish I was.”

  “How are you doing?” she asked. Faith had explained the severity of his injury but it’d been three days since that conversation and Nadia had been itching for an update, hoping for some better news.

  “Really learning to dislike that question.”

  He shifted a little as if he was going to sit up, cringed and stilled.

  “Does it hurt a lot?”

  He closed his eyes and was quiet for several seconds. “Only when I move.”

  “Surgery should relieve that, though, right?”

  “I had surgery yesterday. This is relief.” There was definitely anger underlining his words.

  Nadia stood abruptly and walked to the side of his bed. “Penn, I am so sorry. I’ve been out of my mind worrying about you.” She grasped the hem of her silky camisole to keep from touching him, recognizing that there was nothing inviting about his body language—and besides, she didn’t want to risk hurting him more somehow. She’d done enough harm as it was.

  His gaze followed her hand to her camisole and then he studied her, seeming to take in every inch from her thighs up. When he didn’t acknowledge her apology, she started fidgeting with her other hand, feeling self-conscious at his overt perusal.

  “I know,” she said, looking down and realizing how he must see her—a complete and utter mess. “I look like I’ve been through a war. I spent the night in the Chicago airport because my flight was canceled. Then the guy next to me on the plane today spilled his Bloody Mary on my jacket, so I had to take it off or smell like a bar. I can’t wait to get out of these clothes—” She paused awkwardly. “Into some clean, unwrinkled ones.”

  “What were you doing in Chicago?”

  “I had a meeting planners’ conference. I flew out directly from Dallas. Had to change my flight after the hurricane evacuation.”

  “You’ve been out of town since before the storm?”

  “Well…” She frowned. “During the storm is probably more accurate. But yes, I just got back into Brownsville. Rented a car and drove directly here. My car should be ready at the repair shop but I haven’t picked it up yet. Penn.” Without thought, she sat on the edge of the bed next to his knees. “I mean it. I feel horrible.”

  His brows dipped and she inwardly flinched. “Don’t waste your energy. My job is full of risk.”

  “If I’d known—”

  “Seriously, Nadia. Let it go.”

  Feeling like a little kid who’d been scolded, she stood, put space between herself and his bed. Letting it go wasn’t an option. According to Faith’s last report, the best-case scenario was that Penn would be struggling with his injury for months. He’d probably always have some negative effects. But the worst possibility of all…

  She turned away and pretended to look out the window to hide her raw, too-strong emotions. Her career meant everything to her. Everything. It was part of who she was, and if it was ever taken from her, she would be devastated. And because of her, that was exactly what Penn might be facing.

  She couldn’t bring herself to ask whether his doctor had made a prediction or a formal prognosis regarding his firefighting career.

  Someone entered the room behind her and she swallowed hard, forcing the softball-size lump of guilt down.

  “Hey, Mr. Fireman.”

  Nadia turned around to see a tall African-American woman dressed in cartoon-character-print scrubs walk up to the opposite side of Penn’s bed.

  “Hey, Mrs. Nurse.” Penn’s tone was warmer than it had been with Nadia, though still a little strained.

  “That’s Miss. And I don’t intend to change that anytime soon. Hi, there, hon,” she said to Nadia.

  Nadia put on her meeting-people face and returned the greeting.

  “Got good news for your firefighter here,” the nurse, Chantelle, according to her name tag, said. “He’s behaved himself enough to go home.”

  “He’d argue about being called my firefighter, but that’s excellent news.”

  “Maybe for you,” Chantelle told her. “The nurses here are going to cry. The other nurses.” She shot Nadia a conspiratorial look.

  Penn cracked a slow half grin, the first hint of anything besides anger that Nadia had seen from him yet. “I’ll be sure to come back and visit them.”

  “Not for a long time. You’re not coming back until you have an appointment. You’re going to take it easy, mister.” The nurse handed him several pages stapled together. “This is the information we went over earlier. If you get home and figure out you were spaced out because of the meds, it’s all here in writing. You’re clear on everything for now?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You’re to start out walking two to three times a day. Just a little bit, to begin with. Three to five minutes.” She reached over and turned his stack to a different page and tapped it. “Walking is impo
rtant, Penn. But don’t overdo it.”

  “Got it.”

  “When you get out of bed, you use the log roll like we showed you. No lying on the floor or the sofa, no recliners. You need to sit several times a day on a straight-back chair. Bathing instructions are here.” She flipped pages and pointed again. “No tub baths for ten days and no shower until Sunday.” Chantelle eyed Nadia, obviously suspecting she and Penn were involved and might want to get naked together. “You have any questions?”

  “Back to work next week, right?”

  “If you’re trying to be funny, you have a twisted sense of humor,” Chantelle scolded. “No bending. No lifting. No driving. No—”

  “Yeah, I got it. No nothing.”

  “You here to take him home?” Chantelle asked Nadia.

  “I’m calling my roommate,” Penn snapped before Nadia could respond.

  “I can take you home, Penn.”

  Penn bit down and tried to hide the pain as he twisted too much reaching for the phone on the side table.

  “You’re going to hurt yourself.” Chantelle handed it to him.

  “Thanks,” he muttered, sidetracked.

  No way in this lifetime was Nadia going to be here when he did the fricking log roll. No one needed to see him moving like a ninety-year-old man, but especially not Nadia. God, he hated this.

  “Cooper’s expecting me to call.” He paused, trying to remember Coop’s number, then punched it in. The call went straight to voice mail. “Or so he said.”

  “It’s no trouble,” Nadia said, appealing to Chantelle. “I’m here. Offering. Willing.”

  “Go back to your job,” Penn mumbled as he dialed the number for the station. “Vickie, it’s Penn.”

  “Hey, it’s good to hear your voice,” Vickie said. “How are you?”